


Remarkable Shoulders

by kolosundil



Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Anal Sex, And removing armor, Armor, Heresy, Kissing, M/M, Nudity, but i don't give a heck, mostly suggestive language, no hecks given, not many of you are even aware of who this man is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 09:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kolosundil/pseuds/kolosundil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All great men need some rest. And those who dabble in the affairs of the Warp, need it more than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remarkable Shoulders

**Author's Note:**

> Aka, my shameless fangirling and writing about one character continues. Hecks given? Absolutely zero. This was an older work, which I am posting here under the command of someone. Very hush-hush stuff. For those of you who are not aware of who Kolos Undil is, go read The Shards of Erebus. Just go. It will reward you with the best things. Title by mariusgaaazzh, based on an idea by me which was shamelessly supported by mariusgaaazzh.

The Apostle's inner sanctum was almost always quiet. There was no chanting there, no loud displays of faith, no servants were allowed inside. It was a place made for him to rest, in the few occassions that he had that luxury. He slowly stepped inside, his heavy, ornate robes dragging on the floor behind him.He glanced over his shoulder, at his fully-armored bodyguards, gesturing their leader inside.

They were some of the finest warriors the legion had to offer, in more ways than one, and they had been handpicked for this job. To guard him at his most vulnerable. Their commander, Sergeant Undil stepped in, as he was ordered, closing the doors behind him. He knew what his master wanted him for. He wasn't the smallest bit bothered by it. Erebus stood in front of him, staring up at his armored figure, before laying a hand upon the ceramite, gently undoing the clamps of his gauntlets, one by one, setting them aside. The joints whined and hissed as he unclamped them and pulled them away, watching the inner cabling glow, before going out as it was cut off from its battery in the backpack.

He removed his pauldrons, stopping to stare at his bare arms, and the connection points on his shoulders. He dug his fingers gently into the metal, something akin to curiosity on his face. "You have remarkable shoulders, sergeant."

"Thank you my lord," he replied flatly, but not without gratitude. With deft fingers, Erebus removed his power supply, and took it aside, holding the heavy ceramite like a human would carry a tissue box. He stood behind him, and brought his hands to unclamp his breastplate, removing it with utmost care. He dragged in a breath, as his bodyguard's scent flooded his nostrils. He wet his lips. His bodyguard stunk of sweat, and blood, and oil. Exactly as he should.

He dropped on his knees, undoing the codpiece, and then further down, thighs, knee joints, calves, boots. He slowly stood up, and took a step back, admiring his work. Turning around, he nodded for the other Astartes to follow, and sat on the bed. "Remove that," he gestured to the loincloth around the other's hips, watching calmly, his eyes resting.

The sergeant said nothing, and just did as he was told, removing the final piece of clothing remaining on him, and advancing on his master with well-trained ease. Undil didn't look like he could be graceful, rough edges, unmoving face, large, brutish shoulders, even for an Astartes warrior. Yet, he moved soundlessly, with unhurried, almost predatory finesse. He leaned down, pushing his master back against the bed. Erebus did nothing, allowing his sergeant to press his lips over his neck.

Undil worked on his master's robes silently, drinking in the soft, restrained sighs that he caused. Cloth shifted and swished quietly as he opened layer after layer, hands and mouth both intent on the task at hand. His eyes held utter concentration.

Erebus had his eyes shut, as one of his bodyguard's hands ran up his chest, to touch his neck, wrap around his shoulder, and pull his limp body up. Undil could snap his throat right then, but Erebus didn't open his eyes, didn't tense, surrendering to the touch, lips parting in satisfaction, and Undil covered them with his own, slowly, sucking at the lower one, before moving himself to his master's chest again. The robes he was wearing were now opened, to reveal dark, barely scarred skin, glowing in the half light. Undil hesitated for a moment, laying his hand on his master's lower abdomen, as if waiting for permission.

"Go ahead," Erebus whispered, like a breathing doll in his hands, lips still wet and glistening from the kiss.

Undil did as he was told. His fingers wandered lower, grasped, stroked, while his other arm held onto the Apostle’s shoulders. His master's neck was tilted back and exposed, his lower body gently moving against his hand, bucking forward, grinding, accepting and encouraging further.

The younger warrior moved his hand back up, to his master's lips. Every move was firm, certain, and utterly respectful, like handling a sacred piece of glassware. And, while Erebus could be called sacred, fragile he was not. But it was a refreshing illusion. Erebus took the fingers into his mouth, his skilled tongue working leisurely on them. When the sergeant pulled his fingers away he slowly set him down on the mattress, all while dragging them down his master's body, watching as saliva clung to the rolling, powerful muscles.

With the trained ease that only came from years of familiarity, the sergeant's fingers slid in. Erebus made a sound, a single, small whine that bypassed conscious thought and shot straight for the crotch, and Undil shivered. He went on, steeling his resolve. He wasn't there to succumb to his own needs, but to serve his master's.

He lay there the whole time, limp, but responsive, every push causing new sounds to leave his lips, the friction making him arch his sculpted back, to grasp gently at his bodyguard's shoulders, like a point of reference and stability in a neverending storm. Undil touched him, not stopping, not faltering, just doing as he had been instructed before.

"Make me feel good," had been the order, all that time ago, and Undil had learned how to do just so. Every time he touched his master, he discovered something new, some other way to make him moan in his arms. And this time, with every slow, full push of his hips, while he held onto his master's spread thighs, he learned something new, he had something more in his... arsenal..? Not really. He didn't fight his lord, to have weapons. He... healed him.

Erebus' moans got louder, his back trembled under Undil's touch, his hands grasped tighter onto his shoulders and dragged him down. And as always, he complied, pressing his entire body against the First Chaplain's, and he kissed him. Not like before, a complimentary gesture to a courting game, but a full, needy, desperate kiss, one that he could not simply restrain himself from. His master complied, pushing forward wildly, with force that he hid very well below gentle words and a life dedicated to politics. The bodyguard responded with a thrust of his own, in a short, heavenly burst of violence.

They remained there, pressed against each other for an indefinite amount of time. They didn't speak. There was no need for them to speak. Finally, Erebus gave the smallest shift of his hips, a sign for Undil to move. He obeyed, rolling off him, sitting up on the bed, breathing heavily, ready to stand up and move away. "Stay," Erebus said bluntly, not opening his eyes.  There was a hint of a smile on his face, an expression of pure, physical satisfaction. He sat up, his opened robes pooling around him, slipping down his shoulders.

Undil gazed at him in wordless admiration. Others, more foolish men in this legion, hoped to one day be like Erebus. They strove to catch him, to become what he was. Undil, Undil knew better. Undil didn't want to be Erebus. Undil could not, and would not be Erebus. He was happy to serve him, in any way he wished. For, where could he possibly find someone better to work for...? He lay back, watching his master's figure as he moved, fluidly, to straddle his hips, sliding his hands out of his sleeves, and laying them on Undil's chest.

"My turn," he breathed in the sergeant's ear, and Undil grinned knowingly. Where could he find better indeed..?

"Yes, my lord."


End file.
